Fifty-Two Stories

“You and your whimsies! What the devil do you want? Another girl would fall at his feet, but you—‘I won’t marry him!’ All you want is to trade winks with mailmen and repetutors! There’s a repetutor who comes to Grishenka, ma’am, she just stared her stupid eyes out at him. Shameless creature!”

“Have you seen this Danilo before?” the lady asked Pelageya.

“Where could I have seen him? I saw him for the first time today, Aksinya found the cursed fiend somewhere and brought him here…And so he landed on my head!”

Over dinner, as Pelageya served the food, the diners all looked her in the face and teased her about the cabby. She blushed terribly and giggled unnaturally.

(“It must be shameful to get married…,” thought Grisha. “Terribly shameful!”)

The food was all oversalted, blood seeped from the underdone chickens, and to top it off, during the mealtime plates and knives spilled from Pelageya’s hands as if from a crooked shelf, but nobody uttered a word of reproach, since they all understood her state of mind. Only once Papa flung his napkin down angrily and said to Mama:

“Why do you want to get everybody married? What business is it of yours? Let them get married as they like.”

After dinner the neighboring cooks and maids flitted through the kitchen, and the whispering went on till evening. How they had sniffed out the matchmaking—God knows. Waking up at midnight, Grisha heard the nanny and the cook whispering behind the curtain in the children’s room. The nanny was persuading, and the cook now sobbed, now giggled. Falling asleep after that, Grisha dreamed that Pelageya was being abducted by a Chernomor and a witch…¹

The next day came a lull. Kitchen life continued on its course, as if there were no cabby. Only from time to time the nanny would put on a new shawl, assume a solemnly stern expression, and go off somewhere for an hour or two, evidently for negotiations…Pelageya and the cabby did not see each other, and, when reminded of him, she would flare up and shout:

“Curse him up and down! Why should I think about him! Tphoo!”

One evening in the kitchen, when the nanny and the cook were assiduously cutting out a pattern, Mama came in and said:

“You can marry him, of course, that’s your business, but you must know, Pelageya, that he cannot live here…You know I don’t like to have someone sitting in the kitchen. See that you remember…And I won’t give you the nights off.”

“God knows what you’re thinking up, ma’am,” shrieked the cook. “Why do you reproach me over him? Let him rot! Why should I be stuck with this…”

Peeking into the kitchen one Sunday morning, Grisha froze in amazement. The kitchen was packed full of people. There were cooks from all the households, a caretaker, two policemen, a corporal with his stripes, the boy Filka…This Filka usually loitered around the laundry room and played with the dogs, but he was neatly combed, washed, and holding an icon in a foil casing. In the middle of the kitchen stood Pelageya in a new calico dress and with a flower on her head. Beside her stood the cabby. The newlyweds were both red-faced, sweaty, and kept blinking their eyes.

“Well, now…seems it’s time…,” the corporal began after a long pause.

Pelageya’s whole face twitched and she burst into tears…The corporal took a big loaf of bread from the table, stood beside the nanny, and started to recite the blessing. The cabby went over to the corporal, plopped down before him, and gave him a smacking kiss on the hand. He did the same before Aksinya. Pelageya followed him mechanically and also plopped down. Finally, the outside door opened, white fog blew into the kitchen, and the public all moved noisily from the kitchen into the yard.

“Poor thing, poor thing!” thought Grisha, listening to the cook’s sobs. “Where are they taking her? Why don’t Papa and Mama stand up for her?”

After the church there was singing and concertina playing in the wash-house till evening. Mama was angry all the while that the nanny smelled of vodka and that on account of these weddings there was nobody to prepare the samovar. When Grisha went to bed, Pelageya had still not come back.

“Poor thing, now she’s crying somewhere in the dark!” he thought. “And the cabby tells her: ‘Shut up! Shut up!’ ”

The next morning the cook was already in the kitchen. The cabby stopped by for a minute. He thanked Mama and, looking sternly at Pelageya, said:

“Keep an eye on her, ma’am. Be her father and mother. And you, too, Aksinya Stepanna, don’t let up, see that everything stays honorable…no mischief…And also, ma’am, allow me an advance of five little roubles on her salary. I’ve got to buy a new yoke.”